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Monday, 31 August 2015

Blurb:Cassie loves her life on the river with Tom and her friends. She feels Tom has her wrapped in a safe and protected cocoon of love. But her world is jarred when the phone calls begin. Cassie hesitates to tell Tom about them knowing he’ll over react and she will be the one under ‘house arrest’. But when the calls go from annoying to frightening she has no choice. Tom brings in the police to find out who is behind the harassment and make plans to keep Cassie safe, but he’s too late – Cassie is gone without a trace.

The police began an all out search, but there are few clues to go on. Will life on the river ever be the same again?

Coming around the back of the house, Tom spotted me with my wine glass and before even greeting us he snapped, “What are you doing?”

I went from basically relaxed to furious in under a second. Sitting forward in my chair, I adopted the clipped tone Tom uses when he is extremely angry. “I am sitting on my deck, watching my river, visiting with my friends, and drinking my wine.That’s what I’m doing.” Although I was trying to contain my anger, I'm afraid it was evident to everyone.

Sue soothingly asked if they would like some wine. Tom was trying to stare a hole through me and, filled with anger, I was staring right back. Tom looked over at Sue and said, “No, thank you.”

Turning back to me he said, “Cassie, I’d like to speak with you inside, please.”

“That’s too bad. I don’t feel like listening,” I snapped, settling back. Nothing was getting me out of that chair short of Tom dragging me out, and I felt reasonably certain that wasn’t going to happen. I knew how rude I was being, but I’d reached the end of my rope.

Sunday, 30 August 2015

“Let her go.” The voice was harsh, spoken barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking it – it was Johnny. “Let her go Frank. Your quarrel’s with me, not her.”

“Is it?” Frank’s voice was dangerously soft, and he pressed the barrel of the gun harder against her head. “If I kill her we’ll be even – my brother for your wife.”

Jessica’s heart stilled momentarily and she couldn’t breathe – she truly was in danger! Then her heart started racing, beating so hard she could feel it against her forearm that Frank had pinned against her chest.

“That poker game was rigged!” Johnny yelled, sounding desperate now. “Jessica is innocent in all this! Let her go! What kind of a man kills a woman?”

With a grunt of rage, Frank jerked his arm up under her throat, pulling her head right back, cutting off her air supply. She could still feel the cold metal of the gun pressing against her temple and she couldn’t breathe – she knew her time was up. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. With her head tilted right back as it was the only thing she could see was the sky, but she could hear footsteps approaching. Heavy, running footsteps. Mr Jordan? She hoped it was – Mr Jordan was the one man Frank might listen to, the one man who may be able to convince Frank to spare her life. But it would mean Johnny would lose his. Johnny was armed, but Frank already had his gun out with the hammer cocked – in a shoot-out Johnny wouldn’t stand a chance.

“What’s going on?” Mr Jordan’s booming voice rang out. Then she heard him suppress a gasp. “Let her go Frank. That’s no way to treat a woman!” All the authority Mr Jordan could muster was in his voice, and she felt Frank waver. “I said, let her go!” The order was even more forceful this time, and she felt herself being thrown violently sideways at the same time there was a crash of gunfire - two guns went off almost simultaneously, shattering the silence, echoing across the plains. Time stood still.

Orphaned by an attack on her family’s wagon train, Jessica finds herself stranded a thousand miles from Boston, the only home she has ever known. Only one man—a rough, dusty cowboy named Johnny—stands between her and the perils of the west, and he quickly makes it clear that he is ready to do whatever needs to be done to keep Jessica safe, whether she likes it or not.

When the unlikely pair stumble upon a cattle drive and they are both offered employment, Johnny doesn’t hesitate to accept. But after Jessica loudly expresses her disdain for his plan and for cowboys in general, Johnny decides it is time for drastic action. After a hard, embarrassing spanking followed by a tearful apology to the trail boss, Jessica is left with a sore backside and a strange yet undeniably powerful need to be held close and comforted by her handsome protector.

With Johnny by her side—and claiming an ever bigger place in her heart with each passing day—Jessica begins to adjust to life on the trail. But a cattle drive is a dangerous place for anyone, let alone a city girl with a penchant for disobedience. If he ever wants the chance to make Jessica his wife, Johnny knows he’s going to have to take her firmly in hand before she gets herself hurt or killed. Even if it means a painful, humiliating bare-bottom strapping she’ll never forget, one way or another he’ll teach her the ways of the west.

Publisher’s Note: The Ways of the West is an erotic romance novel that contains sexual scenes and spankings, including domestic discipline in a historical setting. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Don't forget to check out the other participants in this week's #6BestHop below:

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

I am so excited to share with you all the cover for my Western, hopefully due for release on the weekend! Those of you who've visited my blog before might notice the name change :)

Korey at Stormy Night Publications has done an awesome job!

On Sunday I shared the first 5 paragraphs of this book. Here are the next few paragraphs:

Johnny
approached Jessica warily, not wanting to startle her. She was in shock enough
as it was, he didn’t want to add to her terror. And that she was terrified he
had no doubt – he could hear it in her screams, see it in her eyes.

“Jessica.” He spoke softly,
crouching down on the ground near enough to touch her, but not reaching out for
her. “Jessica,” he tried again. She looked at him through her tears, but she
didn’t say anything; she was traumatised. Then she turned back to her family,
pressing her face into their bodies, trying desperately to will them back to
life. Johnny watched, helpless, as she screamed her outrage at the Indians,
wailed her grief at losing her beloved, sweet mama, then turned her wrath on
her father, collapsing on the ground beside him, screaming at his lifeless body
the loudest of all.

“You killed them!” she hollered,
beating at his brutalised body with her fists. “It was you who wanted to come west!”
she yelled. “We were quite happy, me and Mama! Now she’s gone and it’s all your
fault! And Petey! He was just a baby, with his whole life ahead of him! Now
he’s gone too and it’s all … your … fault.”
She ground the words out between sobs, gasping for breath. Her flailing
fists stilled and she curled up against the dead man’s chest, sobbing, her body
shaking, a broken woman.

Placing
a gentle hand on her shoulder Johnny spoke softly in her ear in what he hoped
was a comforting tone. “Jessica, look at me.” She didn’t. Gently, he took her
hands in his own and disengaged her fingers from the death-grip they had on the
lapel of her father’s coat, wrapping his arms around her securely and pulling
her in close against his chest. “Shhhh,” he crooned softly, trying to calm her
as though she were a baby. It worked. She responded to him, her sobs easing. Her
shuddering slowly stilled, she got her breathing under control and began to
relax in his arms. And she clung to him tightly, so tightly, as though she
would never let go. Then she looked up at him and began to speak.

“They came out of nowhere, they just
rose up all around us, as though they came up out of the ground. The wagons
were completely surrounded. I tried to tell Papa of the risk of Indians before
we left Boston but he didn’t listen. And now look ... look at them now.” She
burst into tears again, sobs wracking her body once more as she stuffed her
fist into her mouth trying to stifle her cries. Johnny wrapped his arms around
her tightly again, wishing he could shield her from the pain, wishing she
hadn’t seen her entire family, the entire wagon train, get massacred.

Keep your eyes peeled for The Ways of the West this weekend!

Meantime, as always, please check out the other participants in this week's blog hop - these fantastic authors always have great snippets to share!

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Thanks so much for visiting, Maggie! Before we have a look at Everlasting Hope, I have a couple of questions for you :)

How much of your books are realistic?

This is hard to answer. Some of them contain
a great deal of my real-life experiences and memories. My historical ones are
the least realistic I suppose but I do try to research actual events, dates,
clothing, and items mentioned in the books. For the rest of it, I rely on my
imagination

Can you please tell us one of your favorite things
about someone in your family?

I
can just see my kids reading this and all tapping their foot waiting to ask why
I didn't choose them. So, being an experienced mom, I'm going with my husband.
He is one of the most open minded men I've ever met. He can sit and talk to
virtual strangers for hours and, best of all, he allows me to be me. He will
sit and listen to me read a new plot line or story idea. He has absolutely no
problem telling me – uh, maybe you need to rethink that as we as state – sounds
great – start writing. He is my best friend

Everlasting Hope is from Corbins Bend Series 3. Here is the blurb:

Everleigh
has waited for weeks for her fiancé's return. Rob had been overseas for six
weeks and his absence was almost more than Ever could take. Even knowing that
he was going to take her over his knee for ignoring his instructions didn't
dampen her desire to have him home. After a few weeks of constant togetherness,
Rob sees a change in the woman he loves. As their wedding draws closer, his
sweet Ever was threatening to turn into one of those horrid Bridezillas. He
decides she needs a different project, one that captured her artistic spirit.
Ever is all for following this order but finds her original plans change when
she learns of a project that will allow her to honor the men and women who
serve their country. The residents pull together to help these injured
soldiers. Tory's husband, John, needs more than his wife's love and as a fellow
resident of this special community, Rob takes on a project of his own. Ever
finds that art takes many forms and hope is everlasting as long as there are
people in the world that reach out to help their fellow man.

Excerpt: Ever took a
deep breath and studied herself in the mirror. She had to admit, everything had
been worth it. The embarrassment of being waxed by strangers and even the guy’s
teasing at the tattoo shop were memories she could push to the back of her
mind. The temporary tattoo had been relatively easy to apply and she could only
hope that Rob’s reaction would be one of favor. The new lingerie was gorgeous,
her large breasts barely contained in the lacy cups of her bra. The black lace
panties were to die for – they barely covered the cheeks of her ass, a large
lace bow fanning across her globes. Realizing that she could see through the
open lace to see her bare mons, had Ever blushing hotly. You had to admit –
smooth bare skin was a great deal more attractive than curly hair poking
through the delicate lace. She’d have to be very careful not to bend over or to
get so aroused that she was dripping – the tiny gusset in these panties
wouldn’t be able to contain much!

She had
chosen her sexiest little black dress. It fit her like a glove, the scooped
neckline concealing but enhancing the round globes of her breasts. Black
stockings that clung to the tops of her thighs without the aid of garters felt
silky against her skin. As she slipped her feet into the new red heels, she
giggled. Talk about being over-dressed. No one in their right mind went to the
airport dressed like this. But, it was for Rob. Her heart started pounding as
she thought she’d be in his arms in just another hour or so. Closing her eyes,
she fought against the tears that threatened to spill. It had been so long, far
too long and no matter if he turned her ass the vermilion Violet had
envisioned, she no longer cared. All she wanted was to feel his arms around
her. Checking her face one last time, she stuffed her old clothes into the
shopping bags and smiled. All she wanted was to have the man she loved home at
last.

Maggie Ryan's Bio:

I have been writing stories as long
as I can remember. I am an author with Blushing Books. I enjoy writing both
contemporary erotica as well as historical books set in ages past. I love
developing characters that are able to tell their own stories. My heroines are
multi-faceted women who are strong, intelligent and capable in their own right
but find a deep need to share their lives with those strong, sexy and dominant
alpha males that capture their hearts. My heros recognize the gift of
submission for the gift it is, loving and protecting the women that offer that
gift. I enjoy sweet, romantic stories with just a taste of domestic discipline
as well as one that explore the harsher D/S lifestyle. I also enjoy writing
age-play stories set both in Victorian era where women didn't have a great deal
of power in their lives as well as in today's present time where women still
find their happiness is greatly enhanced in offering the gift of submission. My
hope is that you settle back in your favorite chair and allow my books to
entertain you and let you escape into another world.

I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review
on Amazon as well as reviews not only help inform other potential readers about
books that you have enjoyed, they serve to help me strive to become a better
writer. I so appreciate every reader and wish you Happy Reading!

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Thanks Kathryn for starting up this blog hop, it looks like such fun! This is my first week participating in this hop and I have some exciting news - my western is (hopefully) due for release next weekend!! Yay!!!!Here are the first 6 paragraphs of my upcoming book:

“Noooooo!”
The agonised cry echoed all across the frontier plains and Johnny’s heart broke
for the girl. He watched as Jessica, hitching up her skirts, ran as fast as she
could towards the smouldering remains of the wagon train and crumpled in a
desperate heap in the dust next to the bloodied body of her mother. She kept
screaming, a heart-broken, forlorn keening wail that went on and on as she
scrabbled across the ground first to her little brother then her father. All
were dead.

Johnny had stumbled across the wagon
train only a fortnight ago and had his eye on Jessica since the first moment he
saw her – she was truly beautiful, with a mass of dark red curls, a few wild
tendrils always escaping the pins holding it up, to frame her delicate face.
Her slim, yet curvaceous figure was accentuated by the height-of-fashion gowns
she wore on the trail; despite the fact that plain pinafores would have been
more practical, and were what the other women all seemed to prefer, Jessica
always took pains to keep up her appearance.
He’d thought of her as ‘his girl’ since first laying eyes on her, even
though they’d barely spoken, beyond introductions and a few short, polite
conversations here and there. She clearly thought herself above a dusty cowboy
such as him, but that didn’t matter; she would be a challenge, and he liked
challenges.

He wondered about her though - she was clearly so unhappy on the trail - what
she had left behind? Why had she come out here, to the frontier, if she was so
against it? And she was against it, that much was clear. Her general demeanour
during their journey had indicated that, and the argument he’d overheard
earlier that day had confirmed it.

As they’d circled the wagons and
stopped for the midday meal, Johnny had edged closer to the Walsh’s wagon,
hoping for the opportunity to talk to Jessica. But he hadn’t been able to –
Jessica had complained to her mother of not feeling well; sick, sore and
exhausted, and she’d gone to rest in the wagon. Her father had followed her in, and he’d
overheard him accusing her of idleness, of shaming him before the other men,
the only woman who wasn’t out there working. Did she think she was the only
tired one? The only sick one? The only sore one? She wasn’t – they all were –
yet they all kept working. “Now you get out there and get to work, before I
take a strap to you!” he’d ordered gruffly.

“Do you think I wanted to come out
here? I didn’t! I wanted to stay in Boston, where I was happy!” she’d yelled
back, before she stormed out of the wagon angrily, stomping away from camp.

“We couldn’t stay there, you know
that!” her father had yelled, but she had ignored him, scurrying away from camp
at as fast a walk as she could manage. It would have been the perfect
opportunity for him to go off after her, but then the wagon master had asked
him if he would be willing to hunt for fresh meat – there were families to
feed, and their fresh meat had run out. So he’d gone. As soon as he’d heard the
shooting he’d turned his horse and galloped back, without any meat, but he’d
gotten back too late to do anything. The Indians were driving the horses away
triumphantly as he crested the hill above the trail, the wagons were all ablaze
and bloodied bodies were littered all around. There was nothing he could do.

Don't forget to check out the other participants in "Six of the Best" this week!

Blurb: Love is a decision. It isn’t a fleeting emotion, and it stands firm when everything else is shaken. Brayden James has learned through raising his adopted daughter, Alice, that discipline is only part of what is required to establish stability. When a devastating incident causes Alice to see the reality of her prior circumstances, she is affirmed once again in her life at Waldorf. Brayden’s healing love is exactly what she needs, and his blossoming relationship with Anabelle Grayson mirrors that in its purest form. Brayden and Ana are now exploring the facets of their courtship between the deeply desired accountability system of domestic discipline and some rather amusing scenarios.

The fifth book in the series turns particular attention to Waldorf and where it all began, giving the reader a close-up look at the man who thought he lost everything he loved when his parents died. With glimpses at the supporting cast of the series, we learn how the boundaries of marriage are built when love is at the heart of relationships. What began as Alice’s story of forgiveness and healing has turned an entire social circle to focus on their need for unmovable, sacrificial and unfailing love.

And a lovely spanky excerpt: “Brayden!” She whispered unbelievingly as she trotted behind him out of the study and down the grand staircase. “What on earth!?”

“Shhhh. Your parents will hear,” he played along in a business-like voice. They crossed the foyer and descended the front stairs of Waldorf and went along the gravel, causing Ana’s other hand to cover her mouth with delight. They hurried to the quad-door brick garage on the far side of the circular drive. Brayden stopped near the entry and typed in a code, which released the small door. The four garage doors could only be accessed from the inside, which housed the four cars belonging to Brayden. The first in line was Brayden’s late father’s 1967 Ferrari. The next along was his late mother’s 955 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing, then Brayden’s custom built, top of the line Jaguar XJR, and finally the Rolls Royce. The door on the far end of the garage was the one that opened and closed the most because Jude cleaned, polished or drove the Rolls Royce every day. Brayden didn’t really touch the other cars anymore. He hadn’t touched the custom made Jaguar his parents gave him for his 25th birthday. Not since they died on his 26th, anyway.

“Are we allowed in here?” Anabelle was practically whispering as Brayden held her hand securely. He led her between the bonnets of the cars and the brick wall to their right.

“Of course we are. I’m master of the house,” he laughed, lightly. “Back into character, young lady.” When they reached the third car, Brayden pulled Ana between himself and the Jaguar.

“Well, if it’s my house, then why are we sneaking out to your car?”

“So your parents don’t hear you cry when I smack your bottom.” His face was serious as he looked into her eyes. They could have an entire conversation just by staring at one another, but this wasn’t the time. Ana wanted role-play and role-play she was going to get.

He abandoned her momentarily and performed a numerical code on the door to unlock the Jaguar. He thought about driving out of the gates and down the lane to the Dead End to deliver the promised punishment, but if Alice knew they left the property she would have been upset. It wasn’t the kind of thing a responsible father did, so he settled for opening the back door and planted himself in the middle of the leather seats. “Anabelle.”

She followed his voice effortlessly and left the passenger door open as she put both hands on the edge of the leather seat and bent down to look in at him. “This isn’t my car,” she teased.

“It will be once I’ve smacked you in it.” He reached for one of her hands. “I called your name once. Come here.” He pulled her into the car and across his lap.

“Are you serious? Here?” Anabelle’s character briefly cracked.

“I’m serious about you studying for your exams,” he replied, ignoring the fear she had about being smacked across his lap in the garage. “Cheating is despicable.” He pulled up her dress and rested his hand on her black tights and satin knicker-covered bottom.

She looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t really cheat.”

“You did. We may be the same age but I hoped we would go to University together. You won’t be getting into any school if you’re caught doing things like that on exams.” Brayden pulled down her tights. “I don’t think you want your parents to know about your little escapade this afternoon so I suggest you take discipline from me like a good girl.”

She was loving the imaginary idea of them being seniors at the same school on the cusp of adulthood, and that Brayden was about to discipline her for cheating on an exam in their Maths lesson. For a quickly fabricated bit of role-play, Anabelle was completely invested.

He pulled her knickers down to the backs of her legs. “What is one plus one?” Anabelle swallowed. “Two, Sir.”

Brayden laid the results of the answer on her backside. “Good girl. So far, I see no reason for you to have cheated.”

“It was a lot more difficult on the exam! Those are infant school Mathematics problems,” Anabelle accused over her shoulder.

“Very well.” He pulled his hand back and gave her two more hard smacks.

“Owww,” she whimpered with a bit of a chuckle.

“What is four squared?”

Anabelle groaned. “A lot more smacks than I’d like to take.”

Smack. “A five year old could answer that.”

“Then perhaps you should go ask one.”

“Oh dear. You won’t be able to sit down at school tomorrow.” He pulled his hand back and laid three in a row on her exposed skin. After a pause, he laid another. “Four squared.”

“Sixteen.”

“Sir,” Brayden reminded her.

“Sorry. Four squared is Sir.” Anabelle couldn’t help but giggle.

“Don’t be cheeky.” This time he gave three smacks to the backs of each thigh. Anabelle jumped at the first one and squirmed for the rest. She gasped at how sensitive the flesh was on the backs of her legs. “That’s not fair!”

“It is fair. Maybe if your father had taught you how to behave properly, you wouldn’t be in the back of your boyfriend’s car getting a smacked bottom for cheating on your Maths exam.” He clicked his tongue.

“I can think of something far more interesting to do in the back of my boyfriend’s car,” she muttered.

“Is that so?” He laid another five on the back of her thighs which caused Ana to whine and whimper. She was also stifled by chuckles at how amusing their little session had become. “That was your warm up.” Brayden moved his hand to her bottom and began a steady stream of consistent whacks, which were swallowed by the vault-like interior of the car. Even with one of the back doors open the echo was halted before it had a chance to bounce off the brick walls of the garage. After countless smacks, he paused. “Perhaps I should have done this up in your bedroom where your parents could hear. They might thank me for it.”

“That’s not funny, Brayden,” her pretend teenager attitude retorted.

He started smacking her again. “I’m not laughing.” His hand painted her pink bottom a shade darker.

“Oww,” she whimpered. “It actually really hurts.”

“That’s enough chatting.” He quickened his tempo so it was a full-on, proper bit of discipline. Anabelle found herself wincing out of necessity as she was being whacked, but it didn’t really hurt. Adrenaline had been released from the first moment Brayden took her by the hand and down the stairs outside the manor as if they were running away together, and it only heightened when he pulled her across his lap in the back of his luxury car. Jude could have caught them at any moment if he was outside, and just the idea of him walking in on her being spanked was far more concerning than the actually throbbing of her backside.

“If only I could have done this to you today at school the moment I caught you looking at what’s her name’s exam,” he slowed the smacks down so that they were one every three seconds. “Right in the middle of the classroom for everyone one to see.” Even the very hypothetical situation made Anabelle blush.

“No, Sir,” she replied, gingerly.

Brayden stopped after her bottom was an astounding shade of red. “That’s right.”

Her heart was racing and she wondered if her request for Brayden to humour her was a good idea. She was positive he just guaranteed a very restless night for her, and not only because her bottom would sting. She would be thinking about him with unashamed, utter distraction. Brayden pulled her knickers up, followed by her tights, then pulled her dress down slowly, ensuring he took his time to arrange the pleats neatly across her bottom and thighs.

“Up you get.” He gave her another smack.

Anabelle’s very red face was pointed downward as she backed herself out of the car. He closed the door and walked to the front passenger door on the left, then leant in and retrieved something from inside the glove box. “Hold out your hand, young lady.” She did as he asked, having enjoyed every moment of that little episode. What more could he give her? “As promised, something your father will never give you.” He placed the keys of his Jaguar XJR into her open palm.

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Jessica didn't make any friends when she rode with Johnny into the cattle camp. She'd made her feelings about drovers plain. Which explains the reactions of the drovers when she gets captured by a band of renegade Indians:

“I
say we just leave her there,” one of the drovers whose name Johnny didn’t know,
piped up. “She only thinks we’re a pack of dusty, smelly cowhands anyway!”
There were murmurs of agreement all round, and Johnny’s heart clenched. What
would he do if the men wouldn’t help him rescue her? He couldn’t do it by
himself …

“Yeah,” Frank agreed. “I say just
leave her to the Indians. They’re welcome to her!”

It took all Johnny’s self-control
not to walk over there and take Frank down, and his breath caught when Mr
Jordan took a deep breath beside him, preparing to issue an order. Which way
would Mr Jordan go? Would he rescue Jessica, or would he side with his men?

Monday, 17 August 2015

Hi Kelly, thank you for inviting me
to visit your blog and sharing Sophia and
the Duke, my latest spanking romance tale set during Regency times. I based
part of this book in the New Forest on the south coast of England. New isn’t
quite correct, it’s actually an ancient forest and a suitable location for a
little outdoor birching. Sophia has
married the Duke of Brockenhurst, who is quite at home outside living amongst
nature having made a living as a fur trapper. Sophia is not. So, when he finds
out she’s picked poison berries, which he told her not to do, she’s found
herself bent over a fallen tree.

Excerpt: “I’m going to spank you with my hand
until you’re ready.”

Ready for what? What did he mean?
She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sudden cry when he smacked
her bottom.

She wanted to leap up and march
away. In that instance, as he started to spank her, she couldn’t understand
what kept her in place. A duchess, one of the highest ranked individuals of the
land, bent over a tree, naked and spanked by a man who only a year ago lived
with the beasts.

“No,” she wailed as his hand
continued to rain down.

His slaps came quickly, but not
hard, as if they bounced off her rotund cheeks. She jolted, paddling her legs
and pulling at the blades of grass with her fingers. Her bottom flared into a
pool of heat, while between her sore cheeks, the breeze continued to tickle.

Nathanial ceased and leant over her.
“Good girl. But I don’t think you will truly learn how to be responsible unless
I thrash you.”

“Thrash me!” She aimed her cry over
her shoulder at him.

“Yes. You do not lie to me, Sophia.
If you’re afraid, you tell me; if you don’t understand, you speak of your
concerns.” He drew her up onto her wobbly legs and placed his hands on her
shoulders. “Tell me now, what are you feeling—afraid?”

No. She didn’t fear him. She knew
she trusted him, and that she had to prove he could trust her. “I feel anxious
that I won’t be able to take my punishment and that you think less of me for
lying.” She blinked back the tears.

“Punishments are not meant to be
easy to endure, but they shouldn’t be terrible. Have you witnessed a switching
before now?”

Blurb: After the passing of her husband, the elderly
Duke of Brockenhurst, twenty-two-year-old Sophia chafes at her family’s
expectations during her lengthy mourning period. When she is free to re-emerge
in society at last, at her grandmother’s insistence she entertains the
courtship of Nathaniel Hartwell, a distant cousin of the old duke and the man
next in line for the title.

To her shock, Sophia learns that Nathaniel
has spent the last eight years living as a trapper and fur trader in the
mountains of Canada, isolating himself from the world after the tragic death of
the woman he loved. Though he is a rough, uncivilised man, his devilishly handsome
looks and commanding presence excite her in a way nothing ever has before.

Sophia sets out to transform the new duke
into someone suitable for polite society, but when her comments become
disrespectful and mocking Nathaniel takes issue with her behaviour. Almost
before she knows it, she is over his lap and her aristocratic bottom has been
bared for a sound spanking.

Knowing that it is the right choice for all
concerned, Nathaniel asks her to be his wife, but despite the fact that their
marriage begins as one of convenience he is determined to show Sophia the
intense pleasure a strong man’s dominant lovemaking can bring her. Though her
spoiled attitude occasionally earns her a bright red, well-spanked bottom, as
the weeks pass her desire for him grows ever stronger. But can love truly
bridge the gulf between people from such different worlds?

Publisher’s Note: Sophia and the Duke is an
erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, and
more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

About Jaye

Exploring the world of BDSM and romantic
kinky lifestyles has been a passion of Jaye Peaches - to portray the desires
beyond the erotic sexual encounters and unearth the personalities that lie
beneath. Having written short stories and read many books, she issued a
challenge to herself and decided to write her own novels of Domination and
submission. By exploring the issues in a fictional context, whether in the
bedroom or 24/7, now or in the past, she hopes to show how loving and
fulfilling such relationships can be to those involved.

When not writing, Jaye is busy spending time
with her family, enjoying music, sometimes composing or drawing and if the
weather allows, gardening.

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About Me

Living on the land has given me a love for the men who work it - sexy, ruggedly-handsome cowboys who are not only good looking, but also kind and gentle, but know how to keep their women in line when the need arises. I've been riding horses all my life so it seems only natural for them to feature in the books I write, and they play a big part in the lives of my characters.

What influences me? Life: I was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome at the age of 11 and this disorder has helped shape who I am today. Growing up with a neurological disorder such as Tourette's meant my journey to adulthood was a different one to the typical teenager, and as such, it has given me insight and strength of character which enables me to write about strong women, or women who start out lacking in confidence but growing as the story progresses.

What do I like to read? Rural romance! And of course, spanking romance! In the spanking romance genre, I will read anything I can get my hands on, with historical westerns being a particular favourite.

My family: I have been married to my wonderful husband for 15 years and we have four children together. This keeps me very busy, leaving little time for writing, but as a successful writer once said to me: we make time for what we love.